


Wake Up From Your Fevered Dream

by monkey_and_music_lover



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Framework, Team as Family, mama may
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 19:12:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10905672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monkey_and_music_lover/pseuds/monkey_and_music_lover
Summary: Fitz is having a hard time coming to terms with what happened in the Framework. May knows just what to say.Mama May fic for Mother's Day





	Wake Up From Your Fevered Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StudioCapsicum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StudioCapsicum/gifts).



> Okay so this is a fic written for Mother's Day but MORE IMPORTANTLY, this is super late birthday gift for Claire! Happy belated Birthday Claire! You are wonderful, caring, and hilarious to talk to. I'm glad we chat and I hope this holds up to the standard you are used to ;) 
> 
> Thanks to Elle for the beta, as usual!
> 
> As for everyone else, I hope you
> 
> Enjoy~

Silence spread through the dark and recently abandoned hallways of the temporary S.H.I.E.L.D base. One light shined in the corner of the lab and alerted anyone who might still be awake of the presence of a tireless engineer who happened to still be working on the latest updates to the dwarves. 

 

Jemma headed down the empty corridor when she noticed the familiar sight that seemed to greet her every evening for the last three weeks. Usually, she would look down and pass by while she tried to ignore the uncertain retching of her stomach, but it had been weeks since she had seen Fitz at their shared apartment and she was growing more concerned with each passing night. So, with an exhausted sigh, she readjusted her shoulder bag and made her away to the lone light with determination.

 

“Fitz,” she spoke softly. “It’s getting late, we should go home. I have my car and we can ride together tonight.” 

 

“Not now,” he dismissed her with his, lately, characteristic shortness. “I’m not tired and the drones need updates.” 

 

“That can be done tomorrow, though, Fitz,” Jemma reasoned and dropped her bag to approach him. “Come on, you have barely been getting sleep and I miss you at home.” 

 

“I said not now, Jemma,” he refused to turn to her and kept his eyes locked on the drone. While he hands twisted and turned screws and knobs on the miniature drones, Jemma could tell that he was only idly fiddling with it and not making any actual changes. 

 

“Fitz, please,” she begged, “you haven’t been home for weeks and we still haven’t fully talked about everything and I miss you and I’m worried. You’ve shut yourself off from me and everyone else and it’s not healthy.” 

 

“I just want to be alone,” he responded with a defeated tone. 

 

“But Fitz, you don’t have to be.”

 

Jemma’s hand landed gently on his shoulder and Fitz flinched, pulling away from her and turning to glaring at her with a mixture of fear and anger. 

 

“Fitz, I only want to help.” 

 

“Help,” he said calmly, “by leaving me bloody alone.”

 

Without another word, he walked away from her and took brisk strides as far away from the lab and Jemma as possible without leaving the base. After several twists and turns, he found himself in the kitchen which was a good distance away from both the lab and a majority of the sleeping quarters at this base. 

 

Fitz took a few deep breaths as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings he found himself in. For the few weeks that they had been stationed there, Fitz realized he hadn’t actually spent any time in the kitchen. Most of his meals were either skipped or Jemma put something on his desk that he would eventually succumb to eating hours after she’d left it.

 

Looking around, he noticed that the rest of the team had attempted to make this base as comfortable and homey as possible for however long their stay would be. There were personalized mugs sitting in the sink and on the counter. Various cereal boxes that he recognized from their previous base held similar positions and there were pictures hanging on the refrigerator. 

 

As he looked at the pictures that hung on the fridge, he found pictures of their small team, some of the new agents, and even a photo of just him and Jemma that was taken several months prior to this entire catastrophe. He remembered how everything was before Radcliffe had told him about Aida, before he had gone into the Framework, before their team crumbled into the pieces that were still being picked up, and something snapped. 

 

A guttural scream passed through Fitz’s mouth as he swung at the photos and let them fall onto the ground. He knocked over the cereal boxes, broke a few mugs, and banged on various doors and cabinets within his reach as all the frustration that he held inside and directed towards himself suddenly bursted out in a flurry of crashes and bangs. Finally, when the damage was done, Fitz sat down exhausted and buried his face in his hands. He panted out shakily as he slowly calmed down.

 

Several moments passed in stillness when Fitz heard a soft clink and smelled a strong, alcoholic scent whiff from under his nose. He opened his eyes to find a glass of scotch sitting in front of him. When he looked up, May was across the counter and pouring herself an identical drink. 

 

“Look May, I just want to be alone, alright? I’ll clean everything up later.”

 

Melinda watched the younger agent thoughtfully for a moment. Then, without saying a word, she sealed the bottle of scotch then moved to take a seat on the stool next to his. Fitz let out an exasperated sigh at his superior officer and decided it best to ignore her and the offered drink if she insisted on being there. His head returned to his hands as he tried to collect his thoughts and sort himself out.

 

A comfortable silence settled over them as Melinda sat drinking her scotch and Fitz remained unmoved. Several minutes passed in this fashion; the only sounds that can be heard in the room were the sips of drinking and Fitz’s heavy breathing. 

 

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

 

“It’s all my fault,” he suddenly screamed. “And no one will bloody admit it to me and treat me as I should be.” 

 

He was met once more with silence, as Melinda simply looked at him curiously.

 

“People need to accept the truth,” he insisted, “I made those decisions in the Framework. I was the head of Hydra. I tortured and killed hundreds of inhumans. I ordered the death of Director Mace. I murdered Agnes. Me. I did it. I made those decisions, I did those things. It was me!” 

 

Fitz stood panting as his thoughts and guilt poured out in one loud exclamation. He watched May with wide, frightened eyes as he waited for her predictable rebuke and reassurance that everything was okay and that the person in the Framework was not truly him. 

 

But none of that came. 

 

“You’re right,” May told him calmly, much to his surprise and slight fear. “You did make those decisions; it was all you.” 

 

Fitz let out a shaky breath at her acquiescence. 

 

“But so did I.” she continued, “And so did Coulson and Daisy and Simmons. We all did things in there that we regret and you aren’t the only one that had a hand in the Director’s, or someone else’s, death.” 

 

There was another pause and Fitz looked up at her to see her eyebrows furrow in sadness. 

 

“But it’s time to move on,” she said more firmly. “Most of what happened in there was a simulation, computer programing. Agnes was already dead, Fitz. That wasn’t you. Those inhumans? They weren’t real. Neither were any of the other people you hurt.” 

 

Fitz took a deep breathe at the memories that flooded his mind, but May didn’t stop. 

 

“You regret all the actions you did in the Framework? Good. Don’t let any of that happen again. But that means you need to wake up and leave the Framework behind.”

 

May took a step forward and forced Fitz to look her in the eyes. “It was not real.” 

 

Then, she placed the photo of Fitz and Simmons on the table in front of him without breaking eye contact. Fitz’s eyes darted to the photo back to May’s. 

 

“But this is.” 

 

Fitz looked back at the photo and picked it up to examine it more closely. A sad smile played upon his lips as he remembered taking the photo with her just a few months after they’d finally entered into a relationship. This was what he was supposed to be fighting for. 

 

“How did you do it?” Fitz asked, stopping May as she tried to leave. “How did you leave the Framework behind?” 

 

A brief silence fell in the space between them once more before she responded. “I’ll tell you when I do.” 

 

And with that, she was gone. 


End file.
